


Wheels within wheels (all spinning)

by strawberriesandtophats



Series: No such things as stability (only flux) [6]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Genderfuckery, M/M, Pie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25073794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: Times were changing.
Relationships: Havelock Vetinari/Samuel Vimes
Series: No such things as stability (only flux) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758511
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Wheels within wheels (all spinning)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gemothy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemothy/gifts).



Lord Vetinari sat behind his desk, both feet resting in a tin tub filled with hot, lavender-scented salty water, his paperwork neatly put away in a wire-rack tray to the side. His back and hips were well cushioned by the special elevating-pain-pillows that Leonard had made and insisted that he’d use when working, his new medication was actually doing its job.

The businesspeople that had barged into the Oblong Office without an invitation or a pie were looking increasingly nervous as they saw Lord Vetinari silently page through bright orange folders labeled with the names of their companies and then put the folders into a tray labeled ‘corruption.’

He looked up at the sight of them regretting many of their life choices.

All of them, most likely.

And they were all staring at his new dress.

The embroidered skull pattern on the buttoned sleeve cuffs of the dress appeared to be distracting enough so that several people Lord Vetinari had spoken with today had faltered in their practiced speeches. And then they’d fallen right into the trap of overexplaining and revealing several interesting things to him by sheer accident, an event that caused most of them to backpedal or become alarmed.

It was happening again now, as he saw everyone fight the urge to either start explaining their presence or just fidgeting in place, nailed to the ground due to nervousness.

Truth to be told, it was a perfectly prim and proper dress, all black except for the white and silver embroidered skull pattern that featured on the sleeves and decorated the skirt.

The robes of office were his everyday wear, of course. But on blisteringly hot summer days like this one, it was good to have the option to switch it out for something lighter. Just wearing the short-shorts he usually put on underneath the robes would not be very professional, even if his body was covered from top to bottom in body glitter and therefore not much skin at all would be seen.

Still, he’d found that it was useful to see the minor or major reactions of those that he was interacting with while wearing something like this dress, or even just his everyday black nail polish. Mostly, it made people nervous because it threw them off their rhythm. Others took it in their stride.

“Can I assist you, gentlepeople?” Lord Vetinari asked in the tone of a schoolteacher, just when the added reality of him wearing the blood-red eyeliner paired with his reading glasses appeared to cause most of them to revert back to being children who felt as if they were being scolded by their stern governess and who’d promised to behave better and to do what he asked.

And then they’d not done any of that at all.

“No, my lord,” said the youngest of the lot, who had arrived in the manner of a person that had been pushed inside the room against their will and was perfectly fine with watching everyone else drop unceremoniously into the scorpion pit. “We’ll see ourselves out, thank you for your hospitality.”

The others opened their mouths, ready to argue that since they had arrived here, they should take advantage of it and argue with his lordship about the state of the city.

“Do not let me detain you,” Vetinari said, glaring at them.

Everyone turned to leave.

“Mx. Peaceful Phillips, is it?” Lord Vetinari asked, seeing that they appeared to have immediately began to look for someone in the hallway, a long parcel in their hands. “The head-teacher at the new school on Ficus Street.”

“Yes, sir,” Phillips said, nodding. “My husband makes your canes. I decided that since I was in the neighborhood, I might as well drop this off.”

They put the long parcel on the desk, patting it for good measure.

“Ah,” Vetinari said, blinking. “Thank you.”

“Please do inform us if there are any problems, we’ll do our best to fix them,” Phillips said, as the rest of the group shot them curious looks the door closed behind them.

Phillips adjusted their coffee-bean necklace, which was so long that it had been wrapped several times around their neck. And they had matching earrings.

“Do have a seat,” Vetinari said, gesturing. “I believe that you sent the Palace a letter asking for a grant to support your school recently?”

Philips sat down, clearly trying to keep their expression somewhat blank.

“Yes, sir.”

Vetinari still saw the sharp surprise in Phillips’ eyes, no doubt they had thought that their letter would be filed away somewhere or at most argued about in some kind of council before mysteriously disappearing. Or that there would just be a standardized rejection sent to them via the Royal Mail.

Not that it would reach the ruler of the city. Or that he’d actually read it.

Vetinari pulled out the yellow file that held the letter from the wire rack, noting that it contained the deeply formal language that bureaucracy so loved and very neat handwriting.

There were a few requests:

Funds for fixing the elevator so that the kids that had trouble walking could get to the third floor where the bedrooms for the lodgers were without hurting themselves by climbing the stairs, for more specialized textbooks with bigger letters as well as some textbooks written in Braille.

More desks, chairs and metal rails for the walls, bags of oats so that they could make a big pot of porridge for those kids that didn’t have breakfast at home.

Vetinari thought of Vimes’s casual comments about only having one hot meal a day to look forward to when he’d been young, if that. And it had to be free and provided at work or at school or otherwise there would be no other food that day, if it was a bad one. He’d seen the man shake like a leaf in a storm when Vetinari and Sybil had presented him with Distressed Pudding with almond scraps and cream, because he still dreamed of it at night. Vetinari had heard it himself as he lay in the big bed with them, quiet mumbles about how to make a sack of apples last the week, how to sleep off the hunger clawing at you, how to sew up your own wounds because you couldn’t afford any kind of medic…

“My sister runs a small soup restaurant,” Phillips said. “And she noticed how many kids would pool their change for the cheapest pork soup bowl, and then they’d share it. So when I came to the city, I decided to build a school where there wouldn’t be any entrance fees, they’d all have a chance at learning how to read and write and do sums-“

She’d given the starving kids a special VIP card to show to the person at the counter when they came to the restaurant, which would be a cue to give them a free bowl of noodle soup with an extra helping of their choice of meat or vegetables.

Vetinari had heard of her and her efforts because his staff had become patrons of her restaurant, often eating there after work. The Merchant’s Guild had stopped making a stink about those little restaurants popping up all over town racking up the demand for eggs and flour and all kinds of vegetables after he’d had talk with them about the fact that they should in fact do their jobs.

“There are many people that fall in-between the cracks,” Vetinari said. “The Guild system doesn’t reach everyone, nor does the school system.”

“I’ve seen that there’s a free school being built near the Lady Sybil Free Hospital,” Phillips said, their tone approving. “For thousands of students.”

“Lady Sybil had a word with me,” Vetinari said. “Times are changing, and so is the city. Soon we’ll be hiring teachers of all kinds, as well as teacher assistants, cleaners, nurses, clerks and librarians. Nonetheless, we need more specialized teachers and institutions like yours as well, it is a pleasure to know that you’ll do our city proud, Mx. Phillips.”

Vetinari found the pre-filled in standardized approval letter, filling in the blanks and then signing it and stamping it.

Phillips breathed in sharply, staring at the paper and then at the stamp.

“Approved,” he told Phillips, who sat in their chair and looked as if they’d been struck with lightning. “I’ll speak to Mx. Lipwig this afternoon to make sure that the money makes it into your hands safely.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Phillips said. “This is-“

“As the ruler of the city, it is my duty to see that it becomes better, one leap at a time. I’ll make sure to visit one of these days, when everything is ready.”

“Right,” Phillips said, still reeling. “The children would like that, I’m sure.”

Lord Vetinari smiled, sure that his arrival would cause the adults who worked at the school to run around shouting at everyone that the time had come to clean everything including the people until they all walked around in a cloud composed of the smell of soap and that everyone was to behave normally. The children tended not to be afraid of him at all, most of them just talking about how they’d seen him around town with his little dog.

“I won’t take up any more of your time,” Lord Vetinari said. “I’m sure that there are many things that you need to get done before Monday. Papers to grade and people to hire to fix the elevator in your school, and so on.”

“Right!” Phillips said, jumping up from their chair as if an internal bell had been rung and signed goodbye. “I’ll just get going-“

Lord Vetinari signed back, watching as Phillips practically ran out of the room. Then he removed his feet from the hot water, drying them on the soft towel that had been put on the floor and put on his socks and boots.

The sounds of unwrapping the parcel alerted Drumknott, who hurried inside with a cup of ice-coffee and a slice of Ploughman’s pie as Ms. Sugarbean was visiting the city and handed it, still steaming, to Drumknott after marching up to the antechamber without an appointment and told him to tell his lordship that she was pleased with how the city had changed in her absence.

The new cane was made just right, as Vetinari paced around in his office, practicing handling it lightly and leaning hard on it. It was light enough so that if he had to use it as weapon, he could do so with ease, but heavy enough so that it felt like a good weight in his hand.

It was only when Drumknott had put the tray down on the desk and left for his own lunch break that Vetinari made his way over to the window, where he stood and looked at the city for a long while as his food cooled and his hand became adjusted to gripping the new cane.

The machine that was the city kept running smoothly as he watched, only turning around when he heard the Commander’s familiar footsteps in the anteroom.


End file.
